#these are messy and just figuring stuff out

[rosenclaws]

patch up || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: After coming back from a mission Logan is a mess and he runs into you and Marie. The last people he wants involved with the more violent part of his world.

warnings: Logan is bloody and messy, angsty moments, happy ending stuff, fem!reader, logan is a total flirt.

a/n: So I missed Kitty and Marie and I finally figured out the best way to get them on their first date so this was born!! I just eat up Logan hating himself and being shown kindess anywassss

Kitty and Marie

Logan knew that when the TVA let him stay in Wade's world there would be some strings attached. One of those being listed number one on the TVA's security team. Meaning if there was an issue to arise in another universe, Logan and Wade got the call to fight. It's been a while since he had to put the suit back on and got properly fucked up but hey, old habits die hard don't they.

His healing factor has taken care of his wounds but he definitely looks like he's just had to fight another timelines Juggernaut. HIs suit is ripped and caked in blood. His arms and face have dried blood and dirt. He looks horrible. Wade has fucked off to who knows where leaving Logan to make his way back home.

He did stop for some cigars and had to ignore the many stares of the other customers. With the cigars in his hand he walks up to his apartment.

"Fuck!" Logan hisses as he slams his hand against the door. He doesn't have the keys. There's two options here. He can go hunt down wade and take his keys, or he can just break down the door and fix it later. He's leaning more towards the second option.

"Logan?" He freezes when he hears his name. He knows that voice, it's your voice.

Slowly he turns his head and sees you standing there with Marie in your arms. She was holding a drawing in her hands and looking at Logan with wide eyes. Fucking great.

"What happened are you okay?!" You rush over to him. Concern heavy in your voice as you take in his current state. Your stomach churns just seeing all the blood.

"I'm fine." He says shortly.

Logan doesn't want you to see him like this. To see what he's capable of. There's still blood on his claws and he doesn't need you to know the kind of rage and violence that simmers below the surface. He grabs the doorknob and shakes it roughly.

"Dammit." The door won't even budge.

"Logan why don't you come back to my apartment." You offer.

"No, I'll find my way in." He grumbles.

Once you leave he's just going to break down the door but he won't do it with you and Marie right next to him. Speaking of Marie, she hasn't even said a word to him. Staring at him with wide, almost terrified eyes.

"So stubborn." You huff as you grab his wrist. He doesn't budge as you try to drag him away but he soon realizes you won't leave until he follows so he gives in.

"Go sit on the couch I'll be right back with some clothes so you can shower." You tell him and he just stands there. He doesn't know what to do. He's dirty and your couch is so clean.

Marie is watching him. He can feel a shift in the way she views him and it's killing him. She won't even say hi to him.

"Hey kid-" He takes a step forward and she bolts back to her room. Logan just sighs.

Of course she runs. Why wouldn't she? He doesn't belong here, not with you and not with Marie. Who was he kidding?

"I brought you some clothes, I think they'll fit but let me know if you..." You trail off when you see his face. He looks upset, angry, but above all, sad.

"Thanks for offering, but I should really get going." He turns to leave but you place a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Logan, what happened?" You ask softly. He just sighs, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"She ran away from me. Marie." He mumbles.

"Oh Logan that doesn't mean anything." You try to tell him but he's already made up his mind.

"I think it means a lot actually." He looks down at his messy suit. The carnage of today replaying in his head. You and Marie should be kept far away from all of this mess. From all of his mess.

"That's just not true." You tell him. You place your hand on his face, your thumb rubbing some of the grime off his face.

"You need to get out of your head and let someone else take care of you for once, just let me be that person." You plead.

You know Logan has a dark past. He won't talk about it but you know he's a mutant and that being a mutant is not an easy life. But you don't care what he's done, you care about who he is now and to you he's the man who will let your daughter paint his nails and play princess. He's the man who Marie feels completely safe with and you just can't ignore that.

Logan melts into your touch. Despite all the walls he's built up you just seem to slip through the cracks. A bolt of pure terror shoots through him as he feels those damn feelings again.

"I should get in the shower, I don't want to get blood on your floor." To your disappointment he steps back.

He takes the clothes that are in your hands. His touch lingering as his fingers brush over yours. Logan doesn't know what to say anymore, what to do with these feelings that keep bubbling up.

So he does what he does best and just walks away. The entire time in the shower he's beating himself up inside. He makes your kid cry and you're still being kind to him.

It's really fucking with his head, this whole thing. He scrubs the blood and dirt away until the water runs clear. The clothes you gave him are a bit of a tight fit but they'll work. He grabs his suit and the towel and walks back out to the living room. There sits you and Marie. She's in your lap holding that same piece of paper and a small box.

"I'll pay you back." He says as he sets his things down on the counter.

"Pay me back for what?" You ask, a lightness to your voice.

"The water bill?" Logan says uncertainty and you just laugh. You lean down and whisper something in Marie's ear.

"Go on sweetheart," You gently lift her off your lap and send her to Logan.

She walks up to him slowly and Logan just freezes. She's still cautious and Logan is at a loss of what to do. But Marie acts first. She practically launches herself at him. Wrapping her arms around his leg. Her arms are barely long enough but her grip is surprising strong.

"Woah there kid," Logan grunts.

His hand hovers over her back, unsure if he should hug her back but when she looks up with those big eyes he caves instantly. He reaches down and picks her up. She buries her face into his neck as she wraps her arms around his neck.

"She was worried because she thought you got hurt." You explain as you make your way over to the two of them.

See Marie could be a very sensitive child, something you loved about her and you know how much she cares about Logan so seeing him like before. She thought he was really hurt and it was a little too overwhelming for her.

"I'm just fine kid, see no scratches." Logan says, he can feel himself getting choked up but pushes it down. He shows her his arms and his face and she takes a close look, inspecting for any booboos as she calls them.

"I brought you my hello kitty band aids." She holds out the small box to him.

"Mommy puts these on me whenever I get hurt." She explains.

"These are my favorite but you can keep them for next time."

"That's very nice of you kid. I'll be sure to use them." He moves the box around in his hand. It feels silly to be brought to tears by a box of Hello Kitty band aids but Logan was very close to letting them fall.

"I also made you this!" She holds out the piece of paper. It's two crudely drawn stick figures. One in a dress and the other one has two big tuffs of hair and they're holding hands.

"Is this me and you?" Logan asks as he takes the paper from her.

"Yeah!" She looks so proud and Logan can't help but smile.

"She wanted to give it to you in person."

"Can I go play now?" She asks and Logan sets her down. Nothing like a child to change their mind in an instant. She hurries off to her room leaving the two of you alone.

"See, I told you it didn't mean anything Logan." You say as you walk closer to him.

"I promise you're better than you think you are."

There are those damn feelings again. He just can't shake them and honestly, he doesn't want to shake them. He wants you. He wants Marie in his life. He wants to be happy but he's so afraid of hurting the two of you with his bullshit. He thought it was over after today but you're continuing to prove him wrong. Over and over you prove his doubts wrong.

So fuck it maybe he deserves to let some happiness into his life.

"Go to dinner with me." He blurts out.

"What?" You ask in disbelief. Logan gently grabs onto your wrist, pulling you closer. He smells like your shampoo and it's driving you mad.

"Go to dinner with me." He repeats, his heart hammering in his chest. It's been a while since he's done this and he hopes to god you say yes.

"Like a date?" You ask nervously.

"Yes, like a date." He confirms and you swear it's like the whole world has melted away, leaving just the two of you standing in your living room.

"You and Marie have showed me so more kindness than I could ever deserve. I..." He trails off. He can't put the words together but you could care less.

"Yes, I would love to go to dinner." You feel as light as air, like a teenager getting asked to prom or something.

"Perfect." Logan brushes his thumb across the palm of your hand.

"Mommy! Can Kitty come play tea party with me?" You both turn your heads to see Marie poking her head out of her room.

"Oh sweetie I don't-"

"Yeah I can, but no glitter this time." Logan cuts you off. He points his finger at her jokingly and she just grins.

"You need to stop buying that kid glitter." He says with a sigh and you just shrug.

"You try saying no to her."

"You have that same evil little grin you know that?" Logan brushes his thumb across your lips and whatever comeback slips your mind.

"By the way, wear the blue sundress. I like the way to looks on you." He says with a wink. He drops his hand and heads towards Marie's room, leaving you completely stunned. Oh Logan is going to be nothing but trouble.

Then again, you always liked a little trouble.

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

Bill x chubby reader?

( I got chu!<3 SMUT WARNING AHEAD)

Title: "Overpriced Garbage and You"

Epilogue Bill Dickey x Chubby Reader — Smut | Degrading | Virgin Bill | Switch Dynamic | Chubby Praise | Messy Moaning

The con floor had closed, but Bill’s attitude hadn’t. Still hunched in his booth like some troll under a bridge, snapping at cosplayers and glaring at Funko Pops like they personally offended him.

You? You’d walked by again, because you liked watching him squirm. Big tits, thick thighs, mean smile — the kind of girl who’d laugh in his face while he tried to neg you. But this time, you didn’t just laugh. You challenged him.

One sarcastic insult and a mocking wink later, you were in the backseat of his shitty van, your skirt rucked up, panties shoved aside, and Bill Dickey — bitter, cruel, loudmouth Bill — balls-deep and panting.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he gritted out, thrusting hard, his hands greedy on your hips. “Knew it. Mouthy fat girls always have the best pussy. Knew you’d be dripping for me—”

But something was off. His rhythm — too careful, like he was following a script. His breathing — ragged, but not in control. His moans — too real.

You stilled your hips.

He looked at you, confused, almost panicked. “What? What now?”

You narrowed your eyes. Then smirked. “Oh my god. You’re a virgin.”

Bill’s face twisted — shame, anger, horniness, all bubbling over. “Shut the fuck up—”

“No,” you purred, flipping him fast, straddling his lap and taking his cock back inside you. His eyes rolled.

“Oh fuck—”

You ground down slow, tightening around him with practiced ease. “Big talk, Bill. But you don’t even know how to fuck.”

He whined — whined — grabbing at your waist like he could slow you down, but you rode him harder. The wet, obscene sounds of skin on skin filled the van. You leaned in close, breath hot against his ear.

“Say it.”

“Nngh—say what?”

“Say you like big girls.”

His lips trembled, brows drawn, chest rising fast. “I—shit—fuck—I like big girls, okay?!”

You clenched down. “Say it better.”

“I like—God—I love thick girls,” he sobbed, voice breaking as his hips jerked helplessly under yours. “Big tits, soft thighs—fucking obsessed—I hate it—”

“Bet you jerked off to girls like me in secret, huh?” you teased, kissing his jaw. “Too scared to admit it.”

He nodded, a pathetic mess now — red-faced, moaning, writhing under you.

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth, and whispered, “Good boy.”

He came with a strangled cry, burying his face in your chest like he didn’t know where he ended and you began. You milked every twitch of his cock, slow grinding until he was gasping, wrecked, whimpering little curses into your skin.

And afterward — when the windows were fogged and his glasses were crooked — you saw it. That flicker of softness in his eyes as he stared up at you like you were both his ruin and salvation.

“…You’re still a bitch,” he muttered weakly, voice hoarse.

You just smiled, tugging his shirt up to rest your cheek on his chest.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “But you moan like a bitch."

---

You didn’t expect to hear from him again.

Figured it was a one-time thing — a weird, angry fuck with a bitter virgin in a con parking lot. But three days later, he texted you a blurry photo of a beat-up comic cover.

> “This elf chick has thighs like yours. You’d probably like it. She gets kidnapped.”

That was Bill Dickey’s version of flirting.

And it didn’t stop.

You got more texts. More comics shoved into your hands with grunts and muttered, “S’not bad or anything, just figured you’d bitch less if you read real stuff.” He even bought you snacks once. Didn’t look you in the eye when he did it — just shoved the chips at you like they’d caught fire.

Every time you saw him, he acted like your presence pissed him off. Like you had done something to him.

But his hands? Always found their way to your hips.

And when you sent him a selfie — just something casual, cleavagey, no caption — he left you on read for hours… then sent a single word at 2:47 a.m.

> “fuck.”

You knew what that meant. So you called him.

He didn’t say hello. Just, “…You do that on purpose?”

You smiled, slow. “What if I did?”

The silence on the other end was obscene. You could hear his ragged breathing. You knew exactly what he was doing — probably half-dressed, hunched in his chair, fist tight around his cock with your photo open on his desktop like it was porn.

“…I hate you,” he muttered, desperate. “I fucking hate how good you look.”

You sighed into the receiver. “Then stop jerking off to me.”

He whimpered. Whimpered. “I can’t.”

---

Weeks passed. The sex stayed filthy — degrading, intense, full of teeth and grip marks — but his walls cracked in small, awful ways.

He lingered after. Held you too long.

Called you “fuckin’ stupid” for liking him, then tucked your hair behind your ear.

One night, post-fuck, you lay on your stomach while he rubbed lazy circles on your lower back like he didn’t know he was doing it.

“You’re the first person who’s ever…” He stopped. Growled. “Never mind.”

You turned your head, eyes catching his. “Ever what?”

He stared at you. For a long time. Then looked away.

“…Made me feel like I matter.”

You blinked. The weight of it settled on your chest.

“Oh, Bill.”

“Don’t—” He looked panicked, furious with himself. “Don’t make a thing out of it.”

“I won’t.”

He didn’t sleep that night. You could feel him, watching you in the dark, like he didn’t know how to touch someone without breaking them.

---

He doesn’t say he loves you. Not outright. But he buys you comics with fat girls on the covers. Lets you see the notebooks full of angry scribbles and sad fanfiction he wrote in ‘04. Shaves before you come over, but pretends he didn’t.

And once — only once — when you called yourself gross in front of a mirror, he grabbed your face and kissed you like he was drowning.

“Don’t fucking talk about yourself like that,” he said, voice trembling. “You’re the only thing that doesn’t feel fake."

[xyle-05]

Break My Wall

Someone must be renovating.

Ghost thought as he walked out of the lift. Its blaring sound radiates throughout the hall, breaking the silence of his usually quiet afternoon return from service after a long deployment. It must have been a while if the crisp noise of the power saw still buzzing at this hour.

I need some rest and maybe order takeout.

He grunts as he retrieves his keys from his pocket, balancing the duffel bag he carries carefully to avoid too much movement with his broken arm in a sling. His last mission had gone sideways due to a faulty intel resulting in a fractured bone and earning a cast on his right arm with a five-week recovery period.

With the rattling of his keys and inserted into the doorknob, he seemed to notice the sound of the saw was coming from next door, right beside his flat. Opening the door made the vibration of the saw more louder, and then he stepped into his dark living room. When suddenly lights shimmered protrude his vision, the crackling sound of a wood falling, and a thundering bang echoed.

Just by the entrance to the left wall, a hole has been made, a sizable door length emerges. A woman holding a power saw

in her right hand and on her head her left hand is standing at the opening. The dirty denim rompers and messy hair fit her silhouette suggest she is the one making the renovating.

Ghost and the woman locked eyes for what felt like an eternity. You, the woman, were the first to break the trance.

"Oh my gosh, not again! I'm gonna so dead." He hears the sweet music of a voice but in panicked and stressed.

He kept looking at her dumbfounded by the absurdity of this situation. A hole has been made at his side of the wall. The woman was still in panic when she noticed a figure standing in the dark living room of her next-door flat.

She let out a loud shriek and exclaimed "You here now?! What?! How?! Why didn't you stop me?! Now ---." and kept on rambling about sawing the wall, about the owner gonna kick her out and other stuffs, that leave him standing confused.

The Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley was awestruck by her liveliness and mesmerized by her sparkling bight (e/c) eyes that had so much expression. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, why was the woman making a hole in the wall?

"Calm down." A deep rumble voice out grabbing the woman's attention.

"Oh... Hi." As you relax your shoulders and turn to face the man.

"Explain" Ghost gestures towards her, putting down his bag on the floor, and coming closer to you.

"Um, We haven't met yet but. I'm your next-door neighbor, I just moved in a month ago. I was making room adjustments. I know I probably made your return bad and our first meeting. But I heard of you from Sharon from room 305, lovely old lady, she told all kinds of gossips around the neighborhood. So anyway, I was just renovating when I had the idea of putting on a wall bookshelf, I know bad idea, I didn't know that this much small thickness of a wall we have cause I didn't hear from your side of the wall and thought it must have at least divider, turn out it's not." You ramble on with ecstatic hand movements, Ghost giving you his full attention. He finds you amusing but doesn't show.

"Please don't tell the owner, I'll fix it. Though I don't know how, you see I'm not that handyperson." You plead sincerely. Ghost looks behind you beyond the holed wall, at a mess of what seems to be the amalgamation of woodwork gone bad. Whatever you were making, Ghost could not see the progress.

"Oh!" You look at him and thought of excellent compensation.

"I could cook for you, I'm a food blogger, you see. I just sometimes give away my remaining cuisines to other neighbors. But seeing you in a cast, you might be my main customer."You proudly announce.

"And I will fix it—the hole, I mean. However, it takes some time, so you don't have to do anything. And I might inconvenience you, but you can guarantee I will be at your beck and call."

"Why?" he questioned hesitantly at your eagerness-to-please attitude.

"Um, You might have noticed the side of your wall, and I wanna pay you for your service to the country. I don't know much about the military but I know you can't use your casted hand. And can you not. please, please tell the landlord" You plead.

He sighed in defeat "Fine. No people on my side. No messing with my stuff. Is that clear."

"You got no people, no mess. What about the food? Where should i put it?" You asked softly.

"Just put it on the table. And no more power tools, its late afternoon and I need to rest." He replied, turn and pick up his bag to pace in his room.

The woman was strange to say the least, but captivitating. Her fumble face, her pleading smiles, to her sweet voice, everything about the woman was enchannting in way that made Simon Riley keep thinking about her.

This will be an interesting few weeks, he declared.

[eliotquillon]

how it feels to say ‘i think the things cameron does in canon matter’:

if cameron was a man I don't think she'd be so massively hated in the fandom

[angeliteeyes]

Genshin Love Letters and Confessions - feat. Ganyu, Kokomi, Chiori, Shenhe, Jean, Sara, Ayaka, Keqing, and Hu Tao (in order)

Follow-up for my Genshin Love Letter event, in which these sweethearts sent you a love letter, but forgot to sign them. Still, you know them well enough to figure out who sent each and every one. Now, it's time to go and visit them in person. Shall we?

-Ganyu-

Your heart aches with sympathy at each written word as your eyes trail downwards. Even without a signature, you'd spent more than enough time with your half-Qilin companion to know of her... unique sleeping habits, as well as the vivid dreams that often accompanied them. Honestly, it's a miracle that she even survived this long, given how indiscriminate her choice of napping spots is.

You smile gently at the final words of her letter. As if you could ever say no to her.

Liyue Harbor was world-renowned for several different reasons, from the bustling businesses lining its streets to the gorgeous Glaze Lilies that bloomed along the edges of its landscape. Still, though, as your gaze falls onto Ganyu anxiously playing with a piece of her hair, you deduce that the city itself pales in comparison to the beauty of its inhabitants.

"Did you wait long?" You lean closer to her, making her blush from the proximity.

"Not at all, actually. I had planned to come here earlier, but... there were some last-minute issues I had to attend to." Her eyes shut for a moment, the very mention of work seemingly exhausting her. You nudge her in the direction of the nature-dense trail up ahead.

"Well, you're here now. How about we just leave all that work stuff behind for the night?" She softly exhales, letting the tension exit from her body, before agreeing.

It doesn't take long for you to notice her uncharacteristic quietness. Sure, she may act shy often around others, but with you? It was as if all of the words that yearned to escape from her lips during the day flooded out the moment she was with you at night. As her ramblings began about lazy coworkers or stressful workloads, you'd always been there, strolling by her side to listen. And yet today, you hear nothing. You shoot a glance to your side only to find her looking at the ground.

"Ganyu...? Did your dream scare you that much? You know I'd never actually hate you."

She nods pensively. "I know. Don't worry. I did ask to see you because of that, but that's not... the reason why, exactly." Your ears perk up as you silently wait for her to continue. She takes a deep, heavy breath before turning over to you. "It's just that—well, you know me. I've always felt this barrier between me and most other people, especially with my lineage. I've never... I've never known someone that I've been so scared of losing before."

Her footsteps come to a halt. Before you can question it, her hand reaches out to hold your own. As you look into her eyes, a flash of determination marches across them as she peers directly into your own.

"So that's why I want to be with you for as long as I can. Would you be willing to go out with me?" Her eyes squeeze shut and her hand, intertwined with your own, reverberates like a shivering rabbit. You clasp them gently in return.

"Of course."

-Kokomi-

As you slowly push the door to Kokomi's secret hideout open, her words come rushing back through your head. "I feel at ease with you around, and I know I can let my guard down and not stress about social expectations." Seeing her sleeping form slouched on top of her messy desk, you believe every word.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." You gently tousle her hair, earning a groggy whine from her in response. She stirs and looks up at you with a blank expression, processing your arrival, before snapping awake.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I'm the one that called you here, yet here I am nodding off." She throws in a nervous giggle before falling silent, playing with the ends of her sleeves. "So, you read it...right?" As she peers up at you with timid eyes, her expression brings to mind the image of a scared bunny. The thought—along with her sincerity—brings a smile to your face.

As much as you feel sympathetic to her fears... admittedly, this is far too perfect of an opportunity to tease her; besides, hearing those words from her lips would be much nicer than just reading a piece of paper. And so, you look down at her with a grin.

"Read what, exactly?" A shocked look—followed shortly by a glaring, blushing one—blanketed her face.

"Are you really going to make me say it out loud? It's too embarrassing..." She hesitates to bite the bait you laid out, yet you're not ready to give up just yet. Tauntingly, you lean in closer.

"Come on now, Kokomi. You're a master strategist, and you're telling me you didn't see this coming?" At this, her eyes widen and her hands move to cover her face. For several moments, no words are exchanged between the two of you—you patiently waiting for her to give in and her seemingly incapable of doing so. At least, that's what you think at first. But then slowly but surely, a tiny, muffled voice cracks through her shielding hands.

"...I like you..."

You pat her on the top of the head.

"I like you too, silly."

-Chiori-

A flash of rosy red coats your cheeks as you digest her words. When you saw that you'd received a letter, you couldn't possibly have imagined just how bold of one it would be. Still, though, you can't say you're too surprised by the idea that Chiori would write something like this; it's not like her public image came out of thin air.

Now that the weight of what you're holding is starting to sink in, oddly enough, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. Maybe it's just because she took on the hard work of confessing first, or maybe it's the way she hardly even considers the possibility that you'd reject her (good observation skills on her part). Or maybe it's just the fact that you finally get to know that your crush likes you back. Regardless of which one it is, she deserves to hear your own feelings.

"Chiori? Are you still working?" As you step onto the floors of the esteemed Chioriya Boutique, a whiff of her signature perfume alerts you to her presence. With a loud groan, she gets up and walks over to where you stand.

"Finally, you're here. Perfect timing actually; I didn't have time for lunch, so I'm rather hungry. So, tell me, what are your thoughts on that bakery I mentioned?" Her words rush out of her mouth so fast that you stumble over your own.

"Hey, wait! Aren't we going to talk about... you know... everything else you said in the letter?"

For a brief while, confusion scatters across her expression. Your stomach starts to feel queasy in anticipation, wondering what she'll have to say next. Despite how frequently she spoke her mind, its inner workings still remain a bit of an enigma to you. And then, at last, she continues.

"What is there to talk about? We like each other, and now we're both on the same page, so what's the issue?" Her words carry a strong, bulldozing attitude, as they always seem to. Yet, a slight blush envelops her face. You relax a little at the sight. Even the most confident of people can still get embarrassed, it turns out. You laugh a little, the action causing her to frown.

"Hey! What's so funny?" You shoot her a giddy smile in an attempt to reassure her.

"It's just nice seeing you be the one getting flustered for once, y'know?"

With that remark, her redness only increases more and more, until she looks like a bomb about to explode. She clicks her tongue at you before jutting her hand out to yank your wrist, dragging you outside into the city's streets towards the aforementioned shop.

You have a funny feeling that your life's about to get much, much more eventful now that she's claimed you as her own.

-Shenhe-

"I promise that I'll keep you safe from any dangers that dare threaten you while I'm around."

Reading the letter's final line brought you back to the first time you had met Shenhe. While you had been enjoying the scenery of the Liyue mountains, you'd unfortunately gotten lost and wound up in hostile Fatui territory. The situation rapidly went from bad to worse when they'd falsely assumed you were a spy or something... Really, if she hadn't shown up and rescued you, you're not sure what would've become of you that day. But there's no need to worry about that anymore; if anything, maybe it was good luck that happened. After all, it gave you the chance to see her in a positive light. Nothing like the scary rumors passed around back home.

It didn't take long before you grew fond of her and actively started to seek her out, always bringing along whatever gifts you could find. Thankfully, her unique taste in food meant you'd often spot favorite plants of hers along the way, so it didn't take much effort. Still, she always seemed so surprised by the presents. It made you wonder how many... or how few, you should say, that she'd received beforehand.

All that to say, you'd long since grown aware of her loneliness, of her unfamiliarity with human social customs, and how it's contrasted by her deep desire for connection. And you knew that you never, ever wanted her to be alone like that again.

As you drew near to her home out in the mountains, you breathed in the fragrant air. Looks like she's already gotten started on one of those herbal soups she's so fond of. Admittedly, you found them to be... a bit too unique for your tastes at first. Now, though, your taste buds have grown accustomed to them, to the point where you actually have started to crave those flavors... or maybe it's just that you associate them with her bright, expectant eyes eagerly watching you try out her favorite recipes, along with her subtle yet warm smile when you tell her you enjoyed them.

Despite not knocking on her front door yet, it was hurriedly thrust open by Shenhe, who was now standing in front of you. It's a rather endearing quirk stemming from her superior senses that you've noticed ever since you started coming over—the way she'd rush over to you so fast, yet pretend to act nonchalant when you met face-to-face.

"Oh, you're here. Dinner's almost ready." She turns to walk toward her kitchen, but before she can make it, you reach out your arms to latch onto her. You bury yourself deeper into her backside and let your emotions seep out of your body and soak into her skin. A distinct sound of her breath hitching makes its way into your ears. You clear your throat.

"I promise, I'll stay with you forever and ever, Shenhe."

Her body relaxes into you as she reaches her hands up to cover your own. Even in the silence, you can feel the weight of her doubts being lifted off of her shoulders and dissipating into the air and clouds. If her worries ever do return, though, it'll be okay. You'll be right by her side to dispel them as many times as it takes.

-Jean-

From the moment you walked into the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, hushed murmurs and barely held-back giggles made their way into your ears. Seriously, what is up with everyone today? They can't possibly know about Jean's letter to you... right? Right? But then again, knowing her weird ideas about responsibilities and burdens, you're not so sure that she would've confessed to you without an outside push. You sigh before opening her office door.

"Jean?" You take in the strange view in front of you. She's sat in her usual spot, yet her typical orchestra of carefully organized papers is mysteriously missing. Looking at her, you notice that her hands are abnormally empty and resting—or shaking, more so—on her thighs. Realization hits you. "Wait, are you not working on anything?"

A flash of panic stirs through her as she rushes to explain herself. "It's not that I don't want to work, it's just—oh, how do I say this..." She fake coughs, attempting to regain composure. "The others may have caught wind of the letter I wrote you and, well, by the time I got back..." She gestures to her vacant desk space.

Ah, so that explains the weird energy of this place. Not to mention the wink Lisa threw you when she'd spotted you coming over here (then again, that may have just been her being her normal self). An awkward air fills the space between you two, as blushes rise to both of your faces. You decide eventually to break it, albeit with much embarrassment.

"So, uh, how long are they planning on holding your precious papers hostage for?"

She sighs and looks longingly at the door. "They said that I'm not allowed to work for the rest of the day. The only reason they didn't kick me out entirely was so you'd be able to find me faster."

You laugh at the images coming to mind of how that whole scenario must've went down. Even without being there, you can still perfectly hear Jean's complaining and failed attempts to argue ringing in your head as if you were. With a grin, you walk over to her side.

"Well then, let's make the most of this free time together." You grab her hand in yours as she looks up at you pensively.

"Does this mean you accept my confession?"

You press your lips into the top of her overheating head, a little blessing that you hope may bring her peace of mind. "Of course I do."

-Sara-

The miniature clock on your wrist glares tauntingly at you as you sprint towards your destination. 5:10 p.m. You didn't normally show up to your mandatory training with Sara this late, honest. It's just that work ran a bit longer than expected. That's all (and definitely not because you got distracted by a food vendor). Still, your muscles are already tensing at the scolding you know she's about to bombard you with.

It's odd, really. You're not even a part of the Tenryou Commission—or any job that requires physical training, for that matter. Yet all the same, Sara had abruptly waltzed into your life and demanded that you begin training with her. Apparently, it was something about you "needing to be able to defend yourself when she's not around" or whatever other weird things she'd bark at you when you slacked off or expressed any complaints.

Once you finally made it to your designated spot, you began to slow down, panting like a dog in summer's heat. You weren't given any chance to relax, though, as a stern voice pierced into your skin.

"You're late." Looking up timidly, her glare and harsh scowl came into view. Normally her reprimanding was subtler and layered with drawn-out speeches and explanations, but not today. She knew that both of you were already well aware of your error.

"I know, I'm sorry. Work just ran late and—"

"I don't want to hear it." She groans while looking you up and down. "Looks like I was right to make this decision after all."

You pause in confusion. "What decision?"

"This training isn't working out the way I thought it would. I had expected you to treat your safety as a top priority and give it your all, but clearly that's not happening. You're still much too weak for my liking." The urge to argue with her burned at your throat, yet you bit it back, just barely allowing her to continue speaking. Still, if she wanted to give up on training you, she could've just said so.

"So, in order to keep you as safe as possible, we will remain at each other's side every day. That way, I'll be able to protect you and ensure that you're never late to a training session again."

An empty silence lingers for several seconds as you process her words.

"So... like dating?"

Her face goes blank, like she's a broken machine failing to register commands. "What? No, we're just going to move in together and be with each other each day. That's perfectly normal."

You have to forcefully wrangle your facial expression under control at the absurdity of her obliviousness. The worst part is that you know she's completely serious. Before meeting her, you likely never would've believed anyone could be this unintentionally obtuse, but... well, here you two are.

Well, whatever. Maybe as time goes by, she'll begin to realize how awfully romantic your future living situation really is, or the meaning behind her constant blushing as your skin bumps into one another during practice. Until then, you'll happily remain by her side for as long as her confused heart demands.

-Ayaka-

Sakura bloom tea.

The sweet, fragrant aroma wafts all around you, originating from the twin teacups you and Ayaka are sharing. For some reason, she's begun to offer this kind exclusively during your visits. The cause of her actions eludes you, yet based on her attentive looks she throws your way each time the cup draws towards your lips, perhaps it holds more meaning than simple kindness. Today, the flavor is especially strong.

"Thank you for being willing to come over on such short notice. It really means a lot to me." Her voice peters out a little at the end of her sentence, a tranquility exuding from her form.

"Of course. It sounded like you had a lot to say, so I couldn't just ignore you."

She presses her cup back down onto the flat surface. "Yes, I did—if you're alright with hearing me out." You nod affirmatively and watch as her lungs fill up with air and determination, before exhaling. Her eyes bore into yours, a newfound intensity brimming within them.

"I'm well aware that many outsiders view me as extremely fortunate for my position in the Kamisato Clan. I can't say they're entirely wrong, but... they don't see the extent that it affects my entire life. They don't have to sit and listen to others converse with each other so happily and carefree, only to switch to formalities the moment I come over. They didn't have to watch the other children play outside together, only to be rushed over to another lesson on mannerisms. This position is a blessing, yes, but it's also a prison." Despite her somberness, a gentle smile stretches her lips from each side.

"You, though... When I'm with you, I feel free of those shackles. You treat me like a friend, like I'm more than just a person with a grand title."

All of a sudden, she disrupts her own speech. The once-silent room around her becomes filled with jarring thumps and thuds as she gets up from her seated position and strides over to you, slamming herself down by your side. You're about to open your mouth and question her, when her lips press themselves into yours. It's a bit harsh at first, but soon melts into a more timid softness.

She eventually pulls away, but only slightly. With a whisper, she speaks again.

"Can we be more than friends?"

Before long, the tastes of your pair of sakura bloom teas meet and become one once again. A simple, wordless answer, yet somehow, it communicates more than anything else you two could say to each other.

-Keqing-

Most of the time at work, Keqing was a permanent, thundering, and pervasive force throughout your day. Whether it was to pester you over some work with a tight deadline or to bring you little treats from the break room—the ones she claims she just happened to grab too many of—her presence was a permanent fixture in your daily life. And yet, today, she was nowhere to be found.

"Keqing? She said that she's in a meeting right now, I think."

"Oh, Keqing offered to go out and grab some office supplies. She's not back yet."

Over and over, time and time again, your questions got those same sorts of replies. Strange, since this has never happened before in your long time of being coworkers. You bite your lip and ponder. There's no way you're about to go home and leave her feelings unanswered. And so, you settle yourself into the seat at her desk and wait.

It isn't until nightfall that she returns. When she walks in, she nearly doubles over from the fright of seeing your shadowy form and shrieks violently.

"Don't scare me like that! Why are you here anyway? You're supposed to be home by now." You push yourself out of the seat.

"I wouldn't have to be if a certain someone hadn't been running around all day. You're the one that told me not to procrastinate telling you my feelings." At the mention of her letter, she stiffens and slowly deflates like a balloon. Her eyes drift to the side, far away from you.

"...I already told you not to respond. I know you don't like me like that anyway, so don't bother." With that, she turns away and starts to move her hand over the door handle. But before she can actually use it, you reach out to her.

"Keqing, wait."

You gently rest your hand on her shoulder, making her breath hitch. You continue to speak.

"I don't know what's making you think I don't like you, but I do. I really do."

After a few moments of silence, she slowly turns to face you. With a flash of concern, you notice two trails of tears making their way down her cheeks. Her lip is stained with trace amounts of blood, likely from biting it so hard—a nervous habit of hers. She locks eyes with you.

"Do you actually mean that?"

You cup her face with both hands. As much as you try to brush off the tears, more and more seem to replace them.

"Yes, I promise. And I'll prove it to you, no matter how long it takes."

-Hu Tao-

You've showered countless times. You've furiously scrubbed at each patch of skin you could reach. You even grabbed a wad of tape and started pressing and peeling it all over, but to no avail. The glitter enclosed in that stupid letter is still stuck to you like neon glue, regardless of how much effort you put into making it not so.

You had to get revenge.

Up ahead, Hu Tao is busy taking care of some funeral parlor work. Seeing her like this, you'd think she's an innocent, hardworking businesswoman, but you know the truth. You're literal walking proof of her more playful side and of just how cruel of a prankster she could be. It's alright, though; soon, she'll look exactly like you.

Seems like she's finally taking notice of your arrival. As she spins around to face you, a wide, bright-eyed grin makes its way onto her face.

"Hey there, looks like you received my present. Did you like it?" Her eyes narrow mischievously, probably hoping for an entertaining reaction out of you. You, though, simply smile back.

"I sure did. So much, in fact, that I got you this."

Her joyful expression falters after you speak. "Wait, what do you—"

A stream of bright, colorful rainbow glitter interrupts her words as it splashes onto her, making her yelp. You made sure to aim it for the exact same spots that her gift hit you. For a little while, she fails to even react, but soon after she quickly melts into a puddle of booming laughter. So much so that, by the time she's done cracking up, there's a well of tears stuck in her eyes. A high-pitched exhale escapes her throat as she meets your gaze.

"Now see, this is why I like you so much. You're always so fun to be around." She leans closer to you. "Say, how about you go out with me?"

You furrow your brows at her.

"Is this another one of your pranks?" She giggles a little, before making a solemn expression you've only ever seen her wear a handful of times. It's one exclusively saved for the most serious of moments with her, the kinds that leave no room for jokes or lighthearted quips.

"No, I really mean it. I like you. So, what do you say?" She presses herself even closer, talking in a faint, melodic tone. Her eyes watch you expectantly, as if she already knows what answer you'll give. And you know it too.

"Yes, I'll go out with you."

Her face beams with gleeful delight and quickly, she grabs you for a tight hug. Wait...

"Stop rubbing the glitter off on me!"

---------------------------------------------

Author's note: Good lord was this a long one, easily my longest post to date. Apologies for any mistakes, there ain't no way I didn't mess up somewhere in this 4.1k words, long as hell mess T-T still, I hope y'all enjoyed it <3

Taglist: @cmiru final post for the Love Letter event!!!! Thank you (and others, you know who you are mwa) for the support. It really means a lot to me :D

[aria-bun]

I love you like the ashes in my cigarette box

Jon and Basira clean out Tim's stuff Read on ao3!

Jon stared at the three desks, all of them deserted.

Belonging to Sasha, Tim, and Martin.

Sasha’s had been cleaned out, and Martin’s space was empty, Jon assumed that he had moved it when he started working with Peter Lukas.

Tim’s, however, was the same as it was before they left—untouched, except for a thin layer of dust coating it.

“It would’ve been cleaned out months ago, but I figured you’d want to be here for it,” Basira said, adjusting her headscarf with one hand. “And Martin, but I have a feeling we won’t be able to get him to help.”

“Right.” He nodded, glancing at her before looking back at the desk. The area was messy, with the cup of pencils knocked over, a cardboard box under the desk, and several pieces of scrap paper scattered around.

While Basira started with the Back To The Future poster hanging by his desk, Jon pulled the cardboard box from under it.

It was filled with knicknacks from office functions, probably from when he was in Research; A mug that read “Worlds Okayest Bisexual” on the side, a half-empty box of paper clips (several of which were bent into weird shapes), more pencils, and a tape recorder.

The recorder threw Jon off. Tim hated tape recorders. It didn’t look like any of the ones from the Institute, either. This one seemed newer, and a bit smaller than the ones that kept appearing around the Archives.

He pressed the Eject button, and it opened, showing the tape inside.

“Basira?” He looked over at her. “There’s a tape in here.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Tim hated the tapes though.”

“I know.” He stood, using the desk for leverage, recorder in hand.

“...That one’s not from the Institute.”

“It isn’t,” Jon confirmed.

“...Should we listen to it?” Basira asked, rolling up the poster.

He paused for a moment, looking back at the tape recorder. “I… I think so. Tim didn’t do statements, so this might be one of the few things we have here with his voice on it.”

She blew out a breath. “Alright, just- Let’s finish this first.”

——————————————————————

Jon and Basira sat in the Archives, the tape recorder sitting on the table in front of them. 

It’d been sitting there for ten minutes, and neither of them had touched it.

“...What are you guys doing?” Melanie’s voice came from behind them, irritated. “Is that another damn tape recorder? What, are they deciding to mix up the looks?”

He shook his head. “No. This was Tim’s.”

“Why the hell would he have a tape recorder?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We were going to listen.” Barisa’s gaze stayed on the recorder.

“Then don’t mind if I do.” Melanie pulled out a chair and sat down at the table next to Basira.

The three of them sat there for a few more minutes, nobody moving to turn it on.

“...Is anyone going to actually turn it on?” Melanie looked between the two of them.

Jon wanted to. He just had a feeling that whatever was on the tape wasn’t something any of them were going to like.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Barisa let out a breath before pressing PLAY on the recorder.

“Hey, Sasha…” Tim’s voice crackled from the recording. It sounded like he was crying. “Um… I got you a-a Cronut. I know you… can’t eat it anymore but… but I’ll eat it for you.” A shuddering breath filled the recording. “I’m so damn sorry I… I just thought you finally…”

Another shuddering breath. “-getting tired of me or something last year. I didn’t know you were already gone. I’m-” The recording went quiet for a moment, before picking back up. “I’m gonna have to change my catchphrase now, y’know?” He said with a small laugh. It was a sad laugh, on the border of a sob. “Um… “Hello. My name’s… Timothy Stoker… You killed my brother and my best friend… prepare to die.” Tim’s voice broke off again.

“I don’t even know if you like Cronuts, or if that’s just something that… that thing put in my head. I’m not sure of anything in my mind anymore, I guess.” There was a small squeak, sounding like a desk chair. “I have your spare glasses still, I think. They don’t belong to Martin or boss, and the… Not you, I guess that’s what it’s called, didn’t have any.” He exhaled shakily. “I don’t- I don’t know what to do, Sash. About any of this fucking mess. I think if you were the one here, you… you’d know what to do.” A small silence filled the air. “Bye, Sasha.”

The recorder clicked off, the recording on the tape finished.

A thick silence filled the Archive, the only noise being an electric buzz from the overhead lights.

“...Wow.” Barisa put her hands flat on the table as if to stabilize herself. “I-uh- I didn’t know they were so close.”

“Yeah. Tim and Sasha… Well, they were inseparable.” Jon cleared his throat. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed Tim’s voice and wished the recording hadn’t been of him grieving.

He also, selfishly, wished he could have gotten Tim to forgive him before he died.

“I think she did like Cronuts,” Melanie said after a moment. “I only met her once before the whole… thing happened, but I remember seeing one on a napkin on her desk.”

The three of them fell back into a gut-wrenching silence, still looking at the tape recorder sitting on the table.

[wishyoudwell]

very messy trad sketches where i gave up on cleanliness + light

[rated-rko]

crazy lady being crazy under cut be warned! tw for like, iraq war stuff, i guess 👍

okay so let’s just say there’s a possibility that randy didn’t tell that command officer to fuck himself (figuratively) when he said get back to the field, and he did in fact shut up and go pick up that rifle like he was told and resumed training with this desertion thing hanging over him. and now let’s say that john actually did get fired from the company during that messy limbo period where they couldn’t figure out what the fuck to do with him—and didn’t love the idea of grovelling his way back to west newb and admit to daddy, despite all his endless and unconditional tough loving support, that he was right and it failed—and he also enlisted. (i’m sure he said he planned to but i can’t remember where i got that lol)

and they meet, of course. because the fanned-fiction system i have going here is stupid and random and mathless, and if you feed it enough bodies eventually you end up cross-referencing two almost-wrestlers in some forgotten corner of the war. because it’s my sandbox and i said so! they talk about wrestling a maximum of two times because randy is still really bitter and so is john and it does like ‘i’m a failed wrestler’ and ‘oh yeah my dad was a wrestler, i liked goldberg!’

randy would already be broken by the time john gets there. he enlisted at 18, passed through boot, soi, assigned to camp horno, hell on earth even before the towers fell. if he didn’t get out, 9/11 would’ve caught him mid-contract i think?? no choice but to re-up when the invasion orders came down. meaning: he would’ve been a marine during the 2003 initial invasion and the years of heavy ass insurgency (Fallujah, Ramadi, Haditha, etc.).

he’s probably a second-term lance corporal—has some low-level authority—maybe a fireteam leader or even a squad leader by necessity, but he’s kinda terrible at it because he refuses to take responsibility seriously. probably still insubordinate as fuck—always toeing the line of getting an njp, but just good enough in the field that they keep him around. surprisingly good at… war… and weapons. yikes lol :)

he’d have seen just enough training evolutions to know the corps was bullshit but not enough combat to be jaded properly. he wouldn’t even really believe in anything by the time they hit iraq. just endless field ops, endless humps, endless days with a fifty-cal chewing his spine to shreds. cigarettes and rip fuel and complete self-hatred keeping him upright. do i even want to go into how i think he’s some grunt sucking a co…. nope. anyway, kids himself on “old breed” mindset—your job is to suffer in silence, take the hit, do the mission. “embrace the suck” culture in his marrow.

johnnnn, though. oh, john would be brand fucking new. golden retriever boot energy. (i also just think john cena sucks off uncle sam is also a universal truth lol 😌)

he signed the papers at… an older age, i don’t wanna do maths right now, older than most kids, but still just as green, and just as eager. he’d be the guy still cleaning his rifle obsessively after week-long patrols. still calling officers “sir” while getting openly mocked by the guys who knew better. the kind of recruit who stood at parade rest in bombed-out iraqi courtyards while everyone else squatted in the dirt. perfect teeth, perfect salute, not a damn clue.

he’s kind of hated by veterans for being too clean-cut, too eager, too convinced he’s going to make a difference or whatever. this guy ends up doing 90% of the grunt work because he’ll say yes to any order and doesn’t know when to quit, probably compulsively thinks he’s protecting the people around him by being better, trying harder—in reality, it makes no difference.

but he’s a golden boy at heart and earns a reluctant respect because when shit hits the fan, he doesn’t freeze. he doesn’t run. he holds the line and they’re both good soldiers in their own ways, fucked up as that thought is lol

john doesn’t like randy much for all the things listed above. he sees randy smoke two packs a day, scarred up hands, sun-ruined skin, looks older than he is. permanent five o’clock shadow. eyes always half-lidded with hate or exhaustion. this motherfucker neverrrr wears his kevlar unless ordered. and randy hates john because he’s a fresh scrubbed, high and tight haircut, boot blousing neat, still tries to keep his utilities clean even in the field. 250 pounds of pure american cornfed masochism slowly realizing the stars and stripes won’t save him. they’d still fuck, though🙃

but first, they would fight fucking constantly.

randy’s always calling him “fucking boot” or “golden retriever” under his breath. and john, at first, trying to defuse tension with dumb jokes.

over time and trauma… they build that sick, co-dependent battlefield intimacy where you know the exact sound of the other guy breathing next to you at night and trust him with your life but also might shoot him yourself if you spend one more goddamn day listening to him chew beef jerky.

i think about them running missions together through towns no one will remember, guarding fuel convoys no one cared about, posted up in sand-choked fields trading cigarettes (i don’t actually think even a jarhead john cena would smoke but whateverrrr, amuse me please) and they’d whack off to same dog-eared hustler magazine that’s been passed around since kuwait. i think about them trading dog tags like kids swapping baseball cards. stitching each other up with field dressings meant for someone else. crossing streams of piss into empty desert and unabashedly staring at each others cocks, john trying to keep everyone in line, randy half-assing patrols because he knows better than to think any of this matters but gets real fucking scared and in his own head constantly because randy orton is a scared little tough guy in all my dimensions!!!!

i think about them saving each other’s lives once or twice by accident. maybe not even talking about it after.

and obviously this shit was horrific and i don’t wanna gloss over that so when it all goes wrong, when they’re ordered to kick in doors and don’t find insurgents, just some kid younger than them with an ak, and there’s blood everywhere and no one can remember who pulled the trigger first, it’s john who stays up shaking and praying under his breath like it’ll fix anything. and it’s randy who sits there smoking, dead-eyed, like he’s been here a thousand times before. because he has. because he stayed in when he should’ve run.

and it wouldn’t make either of them better. it wouldn’t even make them friends. but it would tie them together, blood and sand and the same ugly guilt that makes you laugh at nothing until your ribs ache. that’s what the corps teaches ya. it’s a long, slow drag toward oblivion, side by side, because it’s easier to keep walking if someone else is dragging their boots through the dust next to yours. can’t decide if they need to die for their hypothetical crimes or end up still attached after it’s all over, but for the record i think john would try to adjust to a normal life and randy would… be a mess… and john would try fix him because he figures he can’t actually adjust. hmmmm.

like i said. i think about it wayyyyy too much. um. and also my critical iraq war knowledge maxes out somewhere between oil, tony fucking blair, and war crimes also so it would require a fucking fuck ton of research to be accurate at all, but GODDDDDD i want to write/read this one day

if you made it to the end, 1) apologies, 2) you may somehow be interested in randy talking about the marines some more lol i didn’t know whether to post it i don’t know if people actually care about this stuff but it’s food for thought!

tbh something i think about an actually obscure amount (and has been my very hypothetical passion product since before writing ribs) is a randy and john jarhead au.

[ladyhavilliard]

mo dao zu shi tarot

the hanged man:  pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives

wheel of fortune | jin guangyao

death | wei wuxian

the tower | jiang cheng

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[wolviez]

lil morph doodle from a while back before um. yknow

[storfulsten]

silly viera wol alt go brrr

[jeepersccreepers]

more of me faves

lineart under the cut

[scarletfish]

deeply obsessed with post-canon isa/sif/loop dynamics.

on top of everyone's personal time loop crash outs, isa and loop are in the lab playing 4d emotional chess. they're inventing new and fresh types of inferiority complexes the world has never seen.

loop never got this far with their isa. there's no script! they knew how he'd react when he was a puppet, following his lines, but who knows what happens now!! (in the loops, loop was siffrin's only confidant. they were the MOST real. outside the loops, what are they? a shadow? an echo? not a guide, anymore. they don't even belong in this timeline, unlike the rest of the party. the universe has abandoned them. who's the puppet now?)

isa is trying to keep himself from panicking because it's great that siff met up with an old friend who looks like the tear of an eldritch being, it's fine he never mentioned them, siff is very private! of course they're so comfortable with each other, isa just doesn't know what it's like to have a childhood friend!! he's not getting replaced, haha!!! (and sure maybe it stings that siff and loop are physically comfortable with each other so fast, when it took him months to hold siffrin like-- oh, well that looks more like a headlock-- maybe loop pretending to choke siffrin is an inside joke? he should probably go check on them anyway, just in case...)

meanwhile siffrin's in the corner having homoerotic tension with his dagger every time bonnie trips on a root.

[muninnhuginn]

Writers tag game

Prompt: share some writing

Thanks for the tag, @miyamiwu!

So, I'll be honest, I don't actually have any WIPs I'm intending to do anything with, but I have some oldish abandoned stuff I managed to relocate. It's back from 2021 so in my Untamed era and this bit was specifically set during Fatal Journey*:

Nie Huaisang woke blearily, cold seeping into his clothes from the floor. It was dark and it took several seconds to remember where he was. He could hear the muffled sounds of clanging and voices. As he lifted his head off the ground, they slowly resolved themselves into the clash of swords and yelling. [...] He didn't know what to do. What would his brother do? Xichen-ge? San-ge? He had his flute with him– he could try Cleansing. This was what it was for, right? Before he could doubt himself further, he started playing, pouring all the qi he could muster into the tune. He'd practised for hours the night before, long after San-ge had left, but despite that, he hadn't truly thought then that he'd need to play so soon. Was that so naïve of him? As he watched, Da-ge began to slow in his movements and Nie Huaisang felt himself start to relax. He kept his lips to the flute, trying not to let his relief fool him into making mistakes. Still, he knew he only had to play a little longer and then they could all escape. Him, his brother, his cousin. They could flee far away from the darkness that haunted these halls. And then Nie Zonghui's head hit the floor. He stopped playing.

And then I had this other bit:

He'd messed up. He must have played a wrong note. Maybe he'd misremembered the entire thing? And now Nie Zonghui was dead and his brother - what looked like his brother - was stood, Baxia dripping blood to the floor. [...] The sword was pointed at him. He tried to hold himself steady as he looked down the blade. Tried to blink away the tears that kept escaping without his permission. He could tell he was failing, unable to stop the trembling, but he forced himself to meet the eyes at the other end of the sword. He couldn't die here. He refused to die here. After all, he was the only family his brother had left.

*(it was meant to be part of a short time travel fic where post-canon characters went back not long before NMJ died. It would've had flashbacks to Fatal Journey interspersed with the "present" up until the point at which future NHS tipped off past NHS about the poisoned music. I actually got as far as figuring out where I wanted all the characters to be at the end of it, but I ran out of motivation pretty quickly so there's only this WIP stuff and the intro part written in the end.)

Ahh not sure who to tag when it comes to writing stuff. I know @roseofcards90 and @floofiestboy write some stuff? And anyone else who sees this who writes, feel free to consider yourself tagged ^^

[ghosthoodie]

also please enjoy the silly little guys that live in my brain !!!!!